“Oh fuck, baby,” he growls. “You’re so fucking tight around my fingers. Feel that? Your cunt is squeezing me like it already knows what’s coming.”
His fingers work me harder, deeper. I’m panting, desperate.
“Is that what you’re gonna do to my dick?” he murmurs, voice wrecked. “You gonna come for me? I need you to come for me before I take you.”
My body gives up. I come hard, clenching around his fingers, crying out as everything breaks open.
He pulls his hand away and stands, eyes dark and hungry. He unbuckles his belt, shoves his pants down, kicks out of them, then grips my hips. He lines himself up with my soaked pussy and presses into me, slow and relentless, filling me until I can’t breathe, until there’s nothing left but him.
He pummels in and out of my pussy, relentless, over and over. His hand slides up my stomach and closes around one of my breasts as he fucks me harder, fingers rough, possessive. He pinches my nipple, sharp enough to sting, and I moan at the flash of pain.
Then his hand comes up around my neck, firm but controlled, and he helps me sit up, guiding me as I scoot my ass to the edge of the table, breathless and shaking.
“I don’t know how I lived without you for that long, baby. I’ll never be able to do it again. Six weeks without you… without your mouth, your pussy, your sass.”
He groans, forehead dropping to mine. “Fuck, I missed you so fucking much. I’m not gonna last, baby. I need you to come. Come for me, sweet girl. Come all over my cock.”
“Oh god, Blade,” I sob, breaking apart on his name. “Right there. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
I cling to him like I’ll die if he lets go. “I’m so close. Fuck. I need you. I need you so bad.”
My voice shakes, feral and undone. “I’m gonna come on your cock. I’m gonna milk every ounce out of you because I’m yours. I can’t do this without you. Don’t stop. Don’t you fucking stop.”
He growls low, breath ragged. “That’s it, baby. You’re mine. All mine.”
His forehead presses to mine. “Come for me. I want to feel it. I want you breaking on my cock.”
His voice cracks, desperate and dark. “Take it. Take all of me. Don’t hold back. I’m not going anywhere. You hear me? I’ve got you.”
I come apart a second before he does, undone by him, by us, by the way I never stood a chance. He doesn’t rush away from me. He stays close, breathing me in like he needs the reminder that I’m real, that this isn’t something he imagined in the long stretch without me.
His forehead rests against mine. His hands loosen, not leaving, just softening, like the fight finally drains out of him.
“There you are,” he murmurs, quiet and wrecked. Not possession this time. Relief. He runs his hands up and down my back, slow and steady, like he’s soothing us both, like he’s making sure I know I’m safe right here.
I nod, still catching my breath. Still shaking. Still his. And when he pulls me into his chest, holding me like something precious instead of something he might lose, I realize that loving him was never the risk. Surviving without him was.
EPILOGUE
BLADE
Three weeks.That’s how long Bri’s been back. Three weeks since she stopped feeling like something fragile I might lose if I blink wrong and started feeling like mine in a way that actually sticks.
She lives with me now. Not in a tentative, keep-your-stuff-in-a-bag way either. Her toothbrush is in my cup. Her leggings are everywhere. There’s a hoodie on the back of my chair that I pretend annoys me and absolutely does not.
I don’t tell her to stay home anymore. Don’t tell her to lock the doors and wait. I just bring her with me.
Everywhere.
Shop. Club. Runs into town. Late-night drives that don’t have a destination, just the road and her fingers laced through mine. I asked her, more than once, if she was okay with it. I needed to know. Needed to hear it from her mouth, not just assume.
She smiled at me like I was stupid in the softest way possible and said, “I like being with you.”
That was it. Decision made. End of discussion.
There are still things that sit heavy in my chest. Things I don’t say out loud until I’ve turned them over a hundred times. One of them is the calendar I keep running in my head without meaning to.
She hasn’t gotten her period yet.
